Free Beyond the Ivory Tower by Jill Blake

and lean hips. Cuff-links that matched the silver-blue of his tie peeked from beneath the sleeves. Pressed against him on the dance floor, she’d closed her eyes, absorbed in the moment. The heady scent of his cologne, the strength of his arms around her, the sensual movement of their bodies to the strains of Johann Strauss.
    She had to shake this crazy fascination she had with the man. He obviously thought that money, looks, and charm entitled him to do as he liked, without regard to how it affected others.
    “Anna, did you want to add something to the discussion?”
    She blinked at the department chair’s question, hoping she hadn’t missed anything important. “No,” she said. “Not at this time, thanks.”
    A glance at the clock showed that the meeting was running late.
    By the time she got to her office, Ethan was already there, leaning against the wall just outside her door, reading something on his iPhone. He straightened up when he saw her.
    “Sorry,” she said, fumbling with the keys. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”
    “No worries.” He smiled. “I caught up on email.”
    She opened the door and hesitated. With most visitors, she used the informal seating area around the whiteboard. As Ethan moved closer, invading her personal space, she changed direction. Once she was safely ensconced behind her desk, with its massive piles of paper, stacks of journals, and assorted computer hardware, she was able to draw a deep breath.
    For several minutes she watched as Ethan prowled the room, examining the overstuffed shelves, the whiteboard covered in scribbled formulas, the framed photograph of a much younger Anna in cap and gown flanked by her smiling parents.
    “I have another meeting in forty-five minutes,” she finally said. “Was there something you wanted to discuss?”
    He looked at her. “You’ve been pretty vocal in your views about the Fellowship program.”
    “Yes.” She shifted in her seat. Here it was, the argument she’d been unconsciously bracing for.
    He sauntered toward the desk and claimed one of the chairs across from her, unbuttoning his jacket as he sat down. She tried not to stare at the way the T-shirt beneath stretched over his pecs. She could see herself running a hand over those broad muscles, down the flat planes of his stomach, toward the belt that threaded through the loops of his jeans.
    She jerked her eyes back up and flushed when she realized he’d seen where her gaze had wandered.
    His dimple flashed. “We have a couple Fellows this year whose projects require some high-level math. I was thinking this might be the perfect opportunity for you to see how the program works.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “They’re bright kids, but they could use a little help from someone with experience in applied mathematics.” He leaned back, casually resting an ankle on the opposite knee. “So how about it? It wouldn’t take much time. Maybe two or three sessions where you’d meet and talk them through whatever questions they might have.”
    Surely she’d heard him wrong. He couldn’t possibly be suggesting that she become a mentor in his damn program.
    “Let me get this straight,” she said. “You want me to volunteer my time to help you convince students to drop out of school?”
    He sighed and shook his head. “These kids are already Talbot Fellows. You don’t need to convince them of anything. They’re eager to learn as much as possible. Just not in the context of school.”
    “That makes no sense,” she said. “If they’re that bright and eager to learn, then school is exactly where they should be. The whole point of education is to stimulate intellectual curiosity and inspire a life-long love of learning. To give students the tools they need to continue learning long after they’ve graduated and you’re no longer there to look over their shoulders.”
    “In an ideal world,” he said, “that would be enough. But we don’t live in an ideal world. We live in a